GTA 5: Brad Snider
by DarkKnight302
Summary: This is a story about Brad Snider who influences GTA 5 so much but nobody really knows anything about him. It details the 10 years he spends before GTA 5. This story may have crossovers with GTA 4, Niko, Packie and their story arc and the Saints in Steelport. I don't own any of the characters or locations used, they belong to their respective owners but I own OCs and one setting
1. Chapter 1

**What Brad's story could be, I may not be writing loads because of GCSEs but I will try**

Dead Man Walking

Brad woke up slowly to the sound of a continuous beeping noise beside him. He opened his eyes and saw the white tiles on the wall and the equipment next to him, he groaned he was in the damn hospital wearing the stupid dress thing they gave to patients. The last thing he remembered was walking with Mike and T and then falling to the floor unable to stop himself. He pulled his shirt outwards to see the damage. Brad had been hit with a sniper round in the chest, quite close to his heart, he was lucky to be alive. That was a bad damn score.

The job that he took was in snowy Ludendorff him, Mike and Trevor had taken a store coming out with decent profit, and it was all going well until cops turned up. They improvised fighting their way out killing quite a few North Yankton State troopers in their Grangers and Esperantos. Eventually they made it to the car where the driver was waiting and Brad had breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did you see the way I put that bitch up against the glass" He remembered saying awfully proud

"Yeah, you're a real stallion" Michael replied

Trevor stopped their conversation with a loud intelligible sound coming from his mouth.

Brad was always more friendly with Trevor they shared the same love of destruction and violence whereas Michael was different he didn't have that streak in him. Trevor always said back in the old days Michael was fearless but now he had two kids and a stripper wife he weren't a beast anymore just a normal robber.

Brad then remembered the next stage of the job, they were continuing their escape in the Granger XL until a police trooper shot the driver, luckily it was not one of them just a hired thug. Mikey, grabbed the wheel and then yanked smashing the cop car sending it flying into a tree. After he did that, they celebrated thinking they had got clean away but they hadn't a roadblock came up and Michael was forced to jerk right instead of going through central Ludendorff.

"Beat the train, Mike" Trevor goaded

Brad watched as Michael accelerated before quickly upshifting into 4th gear, the train grew closer but they were close to beating. Brad willed the car to travel faster as the front of the car skidded on the icy road. Michael pulled it straight and continued to accelerate reaching the track.

The next few seconds seemed to very long, Brad watched as the car passed over the track and then unable to do anything he felt a massive shock to his body. The car's rear end had been caught by the train and there was nothing he could do, it fishtailed as Michael wrestled for control of the SUV. The car crashed into a tall tree, Brad was dazed by the thud he had just suffered, and he felt like he had a slight concussion. He could hear Trevor and Michael arguing but the pitch of their voice sounded weird and just like noise to Brad not words as he dragged his lumbering frame out of the car.

He followed Mike and T to the chopper that was supposedly waiting for them. He personally didn't think there would be a chopper but he had to hope as he had no other escape plan. The three men reached the small town where the chopper was apparently waiting. He did not reach the copper. The last thing he remembered feeling was a damp thud in his chest before crashing to the ground.

That was his last memory so what happened afterwards he had no idea, all he knew was that he was in a hospital bed somewhere inside Ludendorff Medical Centre. He tried to climbed out of bed and found he was restrained by steel handcuffs. Brad rattled the handcuffs furiously hoping they would magically fall off until a stocky looking man entered his room.

"Brad Snider" He bellowed with mock cheeriness evident in his voice "Welcome back buddy"

"You ain't no buddy of mine, cop" Brad said hoarsely while pointing towards the badge

"But of course we are Brad, you and your friend Detective Carver" The detective said with the same tone in his voice "Now tell me buddy, where our friend Trevor is?"

"Why the fuck would I tell you where Trevor is you damn pig. Unlike you lying bastards I don't glove up my friends." Brad replied

Suddenly Carver was angry and walked closer to Brad with cuff keys dangling from his jeans. "Now, you listen to me Snider, tell me where Trevor is or I will have you tossed in Alderney State Correctional for the rest of your goddamn miserable life" Detective Carver said with the façade dropped and sharp anger in his voice

"Why, so you can prove that you're as good as the FIB chasing us."

"No, so I can put you and your dumb Canadian buddy in jail for life" Carver said inching closer to Brad and his hospital bed.

"If Trevor heard you say that he would rip your head off" Brad said smirking

"What is so funny Snider, laughing through the pain" the Detective replied readying a shot at Brad's bullet wound

Brad lunged forward with the cuffs now off his hands after he had unlocked them. He wrapped the steel handcuffs around the cop's neck and leant back choking him to death. Brad held the position for another minute until Carver's body went limp and he stopped breathing. Brad had managed to get the cuffs off by sneaking the keys off the cop and then carefully undoing his handcuffs.

He had escaped this cop but what was he going to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for continuing to read, I am finally getting the plot started. Also towards the end of chapter there is some sexual content, not explicit but just warning you to skip through if you don't want to read it.**

Brad thought quickly, his brain dropping into that cerebral mode whenever he was threatened. It was an animal instinct type response but perhaps had a little more animal in him than most people. He dragged Carver dead carcass towards him before ripping the clothes off Carver's body, survival of the fittest, Darwinism as Lester was fond of saying. Brad started at the top pulling off the orange ski coat and then descended towards onto the worn blue jeans. Brad then took off his hospital gown and put on Carver's clothes. A few minutes later Brad cut a very different look. He now wore an orange quilted ski coat with blue jeans and grey work boots. Coupled with that was an athletic style shirt and the North Yankton state patrol badge hanging around his neck as it would on a cop. To provide the last part of his disguise he put on a black Crevis hat and had white wraparound sunglasses perched on his head, the clothes fitted quite well although the jeans were slightly too long and needed to be turned up.

He searched the carcass once more to try and find anything that was left on Carver's body and to his surprise he found nothing. Damn police never had guns when you wanted one. He then searched his clothing to see if any was hidden away. He found a pistol which looked like a .22 caliber Beretta and also a flick-knife which could be very useful in his escape. He also found car keys, judging by the fob hanging of the keyring, it was a personal vehicle. An old Washington by the looks of it. He peeked out of the door and saw no cops, maybe Carver had told all of the other cops to leave. He opened the door and stepped out into the hospital corridor with its white walls and linoleum floor it felt strangely creepy. He walked down the corridor like a normal police officer slow but purposeful until he reached the hospital reception. He stopped by the vending machine and scouted the room, it was crawling with cops. The officers were clustered around the reception trying to flirt with the nurses while some hung around the coffee machine. One officer called out to him.

"Is Carver done yet?"

"No, he is still in with the suspect" Brad replied trying to deepen his voice

He proceeded out of the door, his skin sweating whilst he passed through the lobby trying to avoid eye contact with any of the cops.

He stepped outside into the cool Ludendorff air, he could see his breath as he exhaled a sigh of relief. Brad pulled the car keys out of his pocket and clicked them hoping to see flashing headlights and he did. The car was in front of the building, he strolled calmly like a cop should before climbing into the car.

A moment later, the engine fired up and he was away from the hospital and back into Ludendorff, he cruised slowly down the high street focusing on the shops that passed. At the end of the road was a huge strip club called '69th street Mamas', it was the biggest in Ludendorff with its many strippers and private rooms. Brad passed it wistfully thinking of all the good times him and Trevor had there. He continued driving until he reached a motel. He hired a room for the next day or so while he checked his inventory. He laid everything he had out of the frayed single-bed, lying upon it was his gun, badge and roughly $200 in cash. He would struggle to get out of Ludendorff as it is with his noticeable hair, he needed to formulate a plan quick.

First Brad shaved his head of his blonde mohawk style hair before he collapsed into bed. He woke up later, it was evening now, 8:19 as the tinny alarm clock said. He picked up his phone and placed a call to two friends. He waited vigilantly focusing on the door not knowing what to expect, a cop or his friend. The bell rang and he looked through the peephole and then opened the door. Standing in the doorway was a short and fat man with glasses perched on his nose. His name was Henry and he was a forger, if you wanted a passport or driver's licence quick he was your man.

"You got the goods" Brad asked

"Yeah" Henry said walking in "I do"

Henry dropped a passport and driver's licence on the bed that were made out in the name Jack Edwards. "These are yours, Brad"

"Thanks, Henry" Brad said scanning the documents for any discrepancies

"Now, how much you paying me" Henry said bullishly

"Maybe, $0" Brad spoke as he smashed henry in the face disorientating the forger before elbowing him in the temple. Brad had knocked him cold but it was best to leave no evidence. Brad grabbed a pillow and pushed it down into Henry's face. Henry flailed trying to escape but Brad held strong and soon Henry's flailing became ineffectual and his body limp. Brad checked for a pulse before determining Henry dead, he then dragged the body into bath before drawing the bath curtain shut.

He then sat down on his bed, looking through the documents more carefully, his new name was Jack Edwards and he was from Carcer City. His date of birth had changed to from 4/04/80 and was now 23/08/79. His driver's licence photo was a picture of him but when he had a different hairstyle now it was time to disappear into obscurity. The bell rang again, hopefully it was his second hire.

He opened the door and a woman walked in. She exuded power and sex off her long shaped body. This woman was a platinum blonde and wore her hair curly following the curvature of her face. She wore a long Russian mink coat and underneath she wore just her underwear, this type of woman was easily seduced and loved her money. She was a prostitute but not a street prostitute who sold herself for $40 no this woman was more like the sexy neighbour who greasy old men ogled.

"Hi, what do you want to do baby" She said whispering but the intent was clear "How about we get to business?" She said in the same hushed tone but she now started to strip off, undoing her coat buttons and partially exposing her breasts covered in a crimson red bra. As much as Brad loved to have sex, he couldn't right now.

"Listen, baby I didn't call you for sex" Brad started

"Then you want a striptease or how about a BJ"

"No, listen I will pay you $200 in cash if you come with me to Carcer City. Listen in fact as soon as we can get to Carcer, I'll let you out" Brad said

"Are you sure, I am feeling a little hungry" the woman continued miming a swallowing action implying her sexual action of choice

"No, I'm fine. Now let's go to Carcer" Brad said

They got into Brad's car and he drove following along the Interstate towards the major city in North Yankton, they both sat silently as the car rumbled along the ice-covered highway. The checkpoint neared as Brad slowed to a halt.

"Good evening officer" Brad said trying to sound like a friendly citizen

"Hello, sir can I see your I.D" The police officer spoke, his name plate marked him as Stanton

"Yes of course, officer" Brad said handing over his driving licence.

The officer scanned it disinterestedly not really paying attention due to the second person sitting in the Washington town car. Brad had picked his time and also passenger just right, driving towards the barrier late at night meant that the officer who checked vehicles would be cold, tired and also very hungry. Having a second passenger, meant that the APB put out for one man, stocky and blond wouldn't apply as you had a bald man along with a blonde woman disguising them cleverly as Brad tried to reach Carcer.

A few minutes later the officer returned with Brad's documents. "Okay, Mr Edwards looks like you are free to go" Stanton said with a bored tone in his voice

"Thanks officer" Brad replied

Stanton raised the barrier and Brad accelerated through the checkpoint quickly but not with urgency, he needed to look normal as he drove off into the night.

He reached Carcer City in the early hours of the morning and parked the car in an industrial area of the edge of town, he planned to get rid of it and find a new car to get to his house where he could rearm and restock before disappearing into the heartland of the USA. Suddenly his companion who had not said a word during the journey spoke.

"I am real hungry, would you like to feed me" The woman spoke miming the same action as she did back at the motel

Brad now felt relaxed enough to enjoy the fine service that this beautiful woman provided. She leant over the gear stick, Brad could see her breasts and he looked down her coat, she undid Brad's jeans before suckling on his penis. She sucked it, licking it for roughly 20 minutes until Brad came feeling intense pleasure rolling around his body. The woman swallowed the liquid quickly as she hated the taste but could feel it coating her back teeth. The woman stuck her hand out for payment.

Brad paid her before getting out of the car and gesturing for the woman to follow him into a disused warehouse. It was extremely large and sound echoed off the metal walls, there were pallets scattered around the place and a crow's nest in the rafters of the warehouse. He sat on the pallet and gestured for her to undress. She dropped her coat and exposed her body to the world, Brad's eyes followed up and down it taking in every feature, seeing how her bra contrasted with alabaster skin. She straddled him and pushed downwards. Brad readied his flicknife inside of his pocket before whipping it out quickly and stabbing her precisely behind the ear. Her body convulsed as it registered the wound as blood began to trickle out. Her body continued with the downwards motion still pleasuring Brad before he slashed again this time severing her spinal cord. The body collapsed onto Brad, pinning him against a stack of pallet trays. It was still warm and Brad could smell her perfume all over her body mixed with the musk of their previous activity. He pushed her body off his before scavenging it, finding $100 tucked into her boots and $200 in her mink coat.

He walked out of the factory and towards the centre of Carcer City.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N So this is basically a bit about Brad's life before he joined Michael, Trevor and Lester in robbing shops. It has a bit of Trevor madness in it for Trevor fans. It also starts to talk about Kennedy which is basically an amalgamation of the Texan cities e.g. Dallas, Austin, Houston, San Jose. Thanks for reading**

Brad walked out of the warehouse, cool as ice, the body would be found maybe a few days later but he doubted that the police would conduct a thorough investigation into what they thought was a criminal. They would probably investigate furiously for a few weeks before slowly phasing this woman's murder out of the news to be forgotten.

He found an SUV on the edge of the industrial estate, in a car park. He jiggled the lock and hotwired it and drove to his home. The drive over made him recount his whole life story.

His name obviously was Brad Snider and he was 24 years old. His name was derived from his Irish and German ancestors and his German side of his family dated all the way back to the American Revolution where his ancestor came to the USA as a jaeger, an elite German soldier, to fight with the Redcoats. When the war ended his ancestor settled in the US. Whereas his mother's side, the Irish clan, came from Dublin in the 1920s during prohibition, they were known to be a crime family back in Dublin where they ran all of the extortion rackets. When his ancestors on his mother's side came to Liberty City they settled in Purgatory and began the same style rackets clashing against the Commission and Jewish mob. Regardless of his history, Brad grew up a fairly normal child, he loved football and baseball and had a natural aptitude for school. But that all changed when he turned 16. To commemorate his birthday his dad and uncles took him out for a drink that was where his only vice was sown into his mind. He began to drink heavily, starting with one can, then two and then he drank a six-pack everyday. The vice was like a voice in his head whispering to him to drink. He had become a raging alcoholic and stayed like that until he was 21. He remembered that day clearly, he had drank 12 or 13 cans of beer in one night, he had a massive hangover. He remembered going to vomit and blood coming out instead of sick and thinking that if he drank more it would kill him. Thinking back to that day, he now realised it had a positive effect, he stopped drinking and robbing people and stores to pay for his habit. He began to run 5 miles daily and box pushing his body for harder and longer

Soon after that fateful day, he was a changed man, fast and fit with great power. He became a criminal though by accident, he began during his drinking but continued after it the appeal of fast cash was too much for him to resist. Then a year ago, he met Trevor. Brad was sitting in a private booth at '69th street Mamas', he was admiring the beautiful view that these women provided. Tall, luscious blondes and curvaceous black women danced in front of women giving him only the view of their perfect bodies. Behind them he could see a woman dressed in just her lingerie dancing on a pole. How he loved this club! He never noticed Trevor until some rednecks started to cause a ruckus at the bar, nothing happened because of it immediately but 30 minutes later, 10 more rednecks turned up and held the club to ransom asking for all of the club's money. These backwoods hicks carried knives and the leader seemed to carry a wrench in his hands, then Trevor stepped up from his alcove where his stripper was hiding.

"Listen, you dumb pricks, I was enjoying a nice dance until you came along" Trevor menaced "Leave now and I won't feed you dicks to family"

"Now, who the hell does this Canadian fool think he is" The leader said with his drawl evident "Get him boys, get him"

The hillbillies began to lay into Trevor coming at him from all sides, Brad felt he had to stop this, he loved this place and felt that he had to defend. So he bolted out of his seat running into 3 of them tackling them whilst punching and kicking them. He knocked them out before turning to see one hick in front of him brandishing a knife. The redneck slashed downwards but Brad moved upwards, surging into the hick with a devastating right uppercut before following up with an overhand left knocking the hillbilly down. Brad stood up and looked around seeing there were no hillbillies left and that Trevor was standing in a pile of bodies. From that day, their friendship had begun and over that next year they pulled audacious jobs with Michael.

That was a good period, in his life no problems just him and his gun doing what he wanted. He soon pulled up to his house, it was in the Rocksnorth Bay area of the city, a typically normal suburban area. He parked his car and climbed out and looked at his house for a second. It was a big, 2 bedrooms with a barn-sized garage at the back, he jumped over the rear fence before lifting up a plant pot and finding the spare key. He opened the door and saw that his house was covered in dust, still he had no time to spring clean it so he ran upstairs and got changed. He threw on a grey leather jacket with some worn blue jeans and tan-coloured boots. He then put the cop badge in his jacket pocket and the wallet in his jeans. Brad ran downstairs and towards his garage to get the rest of his stuff.

In his garage was various mechanical tools and a bike covered in a tarpaulin but the bike is not what Brad went for first he instead grabbed a shovel and began digging. After 10 minutes of digging he found a rectangular metal box reminiscent of a safety deposit box hidden underground. He pulled it out before opening it to find his essentials. There was $5,000 and his bike keys. He stuffed the cash inside his jacket before ripping the tarpaulin off the bike. The bike, was a LCC Hexer, painted red and gold with a black helmet hanging off the handlebar. He climbed and revved the engine before heading to the airport.

At the airport he found there were two flights that were going to depart soon. One was Liberty City up on the East Coast, a positive melting pot for criminals where he had some allies but everybody would recognise leading the cops to throw him in jail. The other flight was to a city called Kennedy in Texas where it was budding as a criminal hub, it had a growing meth industry along with drug and gun running from Mexico. He decided Kennedy was a better option so he booked his ticket and found himself in the air an hour later heading to Kennedy.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Sorry for long wait, I had exams so I didn't have any time to write. Plus I was researching the locale and surrounding areas so I was busy with that. Anyway this details the whole criminal scene. Please review **

Brad felt the plane descend as he opened his eyes, the flight had only been a few hours but his lifestyle had taught him to grab sleep whenever you could, he didn't know many people out here as not many gangsters thought of Kennedy as a great place to hide out away from the cops. What he knew about Kennedy came from his only ally out of here, a meth salesman called Terry Kennard or TK for short who was an old friend from back in Ludendorff. Kennedy mostly had redneck Texans and an Italian crime family known as the Mascolos fighting over the control of the gun-running routes. In addition to those two gangs, there was also a Hispanic gang known as Narco-90 who were growing in power and disrupting the two old rivals from doing business. This gang took any person of Hispanic origin whether they were Puerto Rican, Mexican, Dominican or Colombian, Narco-90 took them all. There were other gangs in the city such as the Grease Monkeys and the Jewish Mob but they were relatively small compared to the other three main gangs.

He stepped off the plane and passed through Customs pretty quickly before arriving at the airport's exit. He felt the hot Texan sun on his back and basked in the sunlight for a moment, you never got this up the East Coast. Brad then heard a horn.

"Yo, Jack" shouted TK using his alias

"TK, buddy how are you doing?" Brad called back

"Not, bad man" Terry said shaking Brad's hand "Come on, my car is just over there

The two men walked to the car talking about past history between them and good-naturedly joking with one and other. Then Brad saw it. It was an Imponte Dukes painted in Raven Black with red leather seats, Brad loved this car as it was fast and durable, the first time he had ever driven one was in Liberty City maybe 3 years ago.

"Nice car Terry, never knew you were a car man"

"I ain't" TK replied

"So who owns the car" Brad asked

In response Terry just jangled the keys and tossed them to Brad who caught them.

"It's your car, I got it for you as I know you wanted one"

"Thanks TK bro, it means a lot"

Brad then climbed into the car and fired the engine hearing the Dukes roar with a raw ferocity.

Brad drove to Terry's downtown apartment while he was briefed about the gang situations in the town. The Mascolos were an old family, who operated mostly out of Kennedy's centre right in the business heartland, they tended to stay away from drugs but dominated the gambling industry by fixing dice in casinos they owned. Another strand of their business was gun-running from places like Ciudad Juarez to Kennedy but they did not have full control over the routes leading in and out of Mexico, that was ran by the rednecks who mostly dealt in meth and guns. Narco-90 as their name suggested ran drugs across state and country borders, their main form of product was heroin, cocaine and marijuana. The Grease Monkeys were hot-rod driving and chopper riding thieves mostly of cars for sale in the Middle East, despite their scruffy looks, they were proficient thieves who constantly fought the Jewish Mob for control.

Brad's briefing about the main players in the town stopped as he arrived at the apartment, it was more of a penthouse really with large amounts of space and a balcony big enough to have a barbecue on. He saw it all as he exited the elevator, this was a nice place very different to his usual style but it was pretty good.

"You got any work on?" Brad asked

"Yeah, I always have work obviously you know my business and how I operate so I'm going to need you to help with the runs"

The 'runs' in question were drug-runs moving large quantities of crystal methamphetamine from one place to another, it was a lucrative business even more so now since that methadone had been banned as a substance that could be sold over the internet or from pharmacies as a controlled drug. Various different crime syndicates started to expand into meth as there was a lot of money to be made depending who made the best, Brad had heard that TK had great quality meth, around the 98.4% pure which was unreal for the real world. But despite the quality of the drugs TK needed a man to move the meth and fence it onto a customer usually a mid-level dealer who would split the large amount of drugs into smaller divisions before distributing out to their low-level dealers. As processes go there was not much money in it if you were a low-level dealer due to their status in the hierarchy but if you were a producer or distributor there was tons of cash up for grabs. However these types of positions usually had long jail sentences attached to them so it was key that drivers be fast and discreet.

"Listen I'll send you over to my guy in Rawlings who will fill you in with the details. He's on Juarez Avenue." TK said "Once you've grabbed the product bring it back to my place around Justice Park."

"Sure you're the boss" Brad replied

Brad exited the apartment before walking downstairs and out of the building to get in his car. He jumped in and made the engine roar as he did a huge burnout leaving at least an 18ft streak of rubber.

Brad drove hard knowing that running drugs was a job that had to be done quickly and discreetly. He aimed the car towards the 72 freeway heading out Kennedy towards Rawlings which would eventually to some rural backroads which he would use to get towards Juarez Avenue which according to TK was on the outskirts of the city, not exactly in the boonies but far enough out so it wasn't in the police's eye.

He gunned the throttle hearing the car roar, it had a V8 roar which sounded as if the engine had been fettled with so the carburettors ran a little better. Brad looked out of the window as he travelled eastwards out of the city, Kennedy had green, fertile grasslands which stretched over plains of space littered with individual houses. He remembered seeing on the way in the city, almost desert like conditions, he heard people in Kennedy called it a dustbowl. It seemed as if Kennedy was a city of great contrast.

Brad eventually came off the freeway and ended up of the winding backroads where he pushed the car. He shifted up a gear, sliding the car through a left-hander feeling the back end kick out as he maintained the slide. The car was a lot of fun. As he travelled these roads he saw wildlife and broken down cars all inhabiting this side of Kennedy. He managed to make it into Rawlings which played host to a US military base which had soldiers from various US Ranger divisions such as the 11th and 69th division but despite this it had a large police presence meaning criminals had to be secretive. Brad drove through town cautiously before eventually arriving at Juarez Avenue, he parked on the street noticing that there was a guy standing outside having a cigarette.

This guy eventually came over to him. "Hey, you TK's guy" the stranger said cautiously but with a rich southern accent running through his words.

"Yeah, that's me" Brad replied

The stranger then gestured for Brad to follow him, Brad rolled the car down a small alley into a rectangular parking lot where there was a garage door. The man clicked a remote and the door opened exposing what seemed to be a loading bay, Brad backed the car into the loading area. Soon the stranger started to load many pounds of crimson red meth, the colour seemed like the colour of rubies and with the crystal shape, and they could almost pass for rubies.

"Take these and drop them off at Justice Park" the stranger said abruptly

"What's your name man? I didn't catch it" Brad asked

"My name is Alex Harper and I am the chef but you can call me Nitro, it is what I put in my cooks" Alex replied

Brad drove out and readied himself for the return trip.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, sorry about long time between updates but I just got busy with life and completely forgot about this. Anyway here it is now, it mostly sets the scene in Kennedy and the dramas that will be laid later. Enjoy**

Brad yanked the car out of the alley, barrelling onto Juarez Avenue, he worked out a route that would leave him out of the police's eye but it was longer and longer journeys meant that the cops would be more likely to catch him and that would be the end of his criminal ventures. He really didn't want to be stuck in a jail cell with some crazy lifer who was liable to pull a shiv on him.

He approached an intersection and turned left smoothly, he was now on Acapulco Street which would lead him out of the city towards some old county backroads which would get him back to Kennedy. He kept vigilant watching the streets and everything on them, he analysed people to see their movements, if the drug-running operation was being surveiled. Brad then noticed a cop standing on the street patrolling the streets seemingly looking for petty crime like pickpocketing.

Brad thought if only the cop knew before passing through the stop sign. The cop turned after hearing the engine grumble and went to his radio, Brad swore realising the cop must have called in some traffic violation. Brad gunned the throttle overtaking the Oracle in front, his car's front end going light due to the immense torque of the Dukes as he powered down Acapulco before quickly cutting right onto Punta Orgullo Road and blasting down there. He could hear sirens behind him, drawing ever closer with each punch of throttle, Brad glanced in his rear-view and saw there was a cop in a squad car following him. Brad dived into the opposite lane, facing oncoming traffic before quickly switching back into the right lane, the car hooked left and Brad pedalled it yanking it right. The cop increased his pace, closing quickly on the Dukes as it ran out of road. Brad became blocked off by the dense traffic ahead however he spotted an opening. Brad threw the car left into traffic before sliding his car through a store-construction. His car was only inches from the metal poles holding the building up. His car slipped through as he pushed his car back onto the road.

Brad breathed a sigh of relief, feeling happy that he evaded the cops and what would be certain indictment in Texas and North Yankton. He continued to drive the car carefully and vigilantly watching for any evidence of a tail or the cops catching up to him, he understood that feds in these parts carried six-shooter .357 Magnums and dealt with criminals like they were back in the old west hence the reason he didn't want to get caught. These cops would stop at nothing to claim the scalp of an Eastern criminal and would probably pay off the judge to do so, Rawlings and other areas out into the west of Kennedy, the farmland areas.

He hooked his car left lazily turning onto the 369 which was used to be a major road between Kennedy and Rawlings until the interstate built the I-22 linking up the towns along with other areas like Mathieu and Ewing which was farm country. The 369 was then left to be fairly empty except for truckers who preferred it for its quiet nature and street-racers who liked it as it was one of the only places where they could get in multiple test hits before the cops turned up due to the road being fairly isolated. Brad drove for maybe another hour before he came into south Kennedy which seemed to be the territory that Narco-90 held. He had heard from TK that Narco was growing stronger and controlled the gun-running and heroin smuggling going south from their area in South Kennedy. As he drove through the area it seemed fairly industrial compared to the more urban area where TK lived. This part of the town seemed to be littered with disused factories and warehouses that were the size of football fields. He could see kids on the street, obviously of Hispanic descent playing street-football and he could also see food trucks that sold Latin American delicacies like empanadas and burritos.

He soon cleared the area and ended up in Central Kennedy which was littered with high-rise buildings, this was the business district of town. It was where all of the lawyers, CEOS and their hangers-on were, according to TK there was massive money in these rich idiots once you had them hooked on your product. Brad turned right onto Richmond St which led him into Cultural quarter which was filled with art cinemas and ethically correct restaurants. Eventually he made it back to Justice Park which was exactly that, a large park area which housed a mixture of wealthy and normal people who were on their way up in the world. Brad drove the car into the under-ground car park supplied by TK's apartment building superintendent and called TK.

"Hey man, I got the Red. Come and meet me downstairs in the car park" Brad said

"Ok man, on my way down" TK replied before hanging up

TK came downstairs and opened the trunk, his eyes lit up at the quality of the red. These crystals of meth glimmered like rubies and TK couldn't stop talking about it as they carried it up to the apartment where TK dropped the bags of meth in his safe before cracking open some beers as they reflected on their day. Brad hit the hay about 1:00 in the morning and slept soundly for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Chapter 6 is up and combines a lot of different ideas. The gym is a reference to Luis Lopez's cage fighting in TBOGT and the whole buying clothes is like at the start of GTA 4 as Niko where you are sent to the Russian Store. The pawnshop is a reference to Jack Reacher bad luck and trouble where he buys illegal guns. Also here is a quick parody rundown for this chapter, Kennedy Rednecks = Dallas Cowboys, SM&amp;M is obviously AT&amp;T. Grease Monkey is basically a criminal gas monkey garage. Enjoy reading and please leave comments**

Brad woke up around 9:00 the next morning, shaking off the hangover that he had from the previous night. He groaned at the pain shooting through his head, thinking to himself that he needed to stop drinking. He got himself ready and grabbed some breakfast with TK.

"Hey TK, do you know any good gyms in the area. I was thinking about going down and testing my skills" Brad said

"Sure, there is one I know that plenty of my football clients use. It's on Carter Avenue in Dartmond in the north of the city. Plenty of the Kennedy Rednecks go there to train and test their fitness away from the coaches down at the SM&amp;M stadium" TK replied

"Cool man, thanks for the tip"

"Hey Brad, you might want to get some new clothes and maybe a piece for yourself, just to protect yourself from the cops and any other methheads who want product for free"

"Sure man, I'll check it out. Later"

A few minutes later, Brad found himself gunning through Downtown going upwards into the North of Kennedy which was where most of the smaller gangs had settled. Gangs like the Grease Monkeys and the Jewish Mob dominated the territory and did much of the criminal enterprises out of here. The Jewish Mob tended to gravitate towards pawn shops and jewellers whereas the Grease Monkeys preferred chop shops and bars as their criminal headquarters. They mostly battled over territory and control instead of actual criminal enterprise in an effort to grow stronger and challenge the big boys.

Brad quickly found himself in Wrenchside which led into Dartmond via Gore Way. Wrenchside seemed to be the Grease Monkeys power-based as he saw a lot of them hanging around looking at bikes or cars. He saw more old-school rat rod Hotknifes than he had seen throughout the whole Kennedy. Eventually he made it to the gym which was based out of an old warehouse on Carter Avenue. The warehouse seemed dilapidated on the outside with mildew covering some of the outer metal face of the warehouse but as soon as he stepped inside of the gym, it was a different story. There were gleaming free weights, a spotless cage and a non-bloodied ring, an excellent chance for him to test himself.

For an hour he trained inside of the cage, throwing vicious left-hand bombs mixed with right-hooks. The main trainer Johnny Ross seemed to take interest in him, shouting instructions to him. Once Brad had finished, Johnny came to talk to him.

"Hey Brad you have some serious potential in those hands, where did you learn to fight like that" Johnny said

"Back in the Midwest, fighting was a good hobby for me" Brad responded

"Listen man, I have a side-line with prize-fighters in Kennedy, if you are down for that, call me"

"Thanks for the heads-up Johnny" Brad replied heading out of the door

Brad jumped back in the Dukes and went shopping for clothes at a Suburban in Wrenchside, he usually like leather jackets and dark-wash jeans with boots and he found some stuff that would work for him.

He came out of the changing wearing a biker's leather jacket which seemed aged and had a skull pattern on the lining of the jacket, some limited edition Ira's jeans and sand coloured Hinterland boots, overall he looked pretty good.

He then found himself heading east towards the Jewish side of North Kennedy, there were apparently a few pawnshops that would sell him an untraceable gun which would be something he needed considering he was a wanted fugitive. The Jewish territory was very different to the Grease Monkeys', it was more residential and high-end as if the people who lived in this area were rich and weaved into the Kennedy history. It was an old money area with large mansions filling the side-streets and rows of jewellers, banks and exotic car dealers filling the main streets like Wilson Way or Truman St. Finally Brad found himself at his destination, Rivkin's Pawnshop, on the outside the storefront was made of marble and floor to ceiling glass windows, Brad looked inside and could see the same sort of counters you would see in jewellery stores.

Brad got out of his car and walked into the store, going straight for the front desk.

"Hi I wish to purchase a gun for my home protection, recently I have had home intruders and feel like I now need a gun" Brad fabricated

"Okay sir, why don't you follow me to the back" The smartly dressed receptionist said.

Brad followed him to the back of the store where he saw a plethora of guns and a guy examining his latest acquisition.

"I'll let you get on" the receptionist said politely before leaving

"Hi, I take care of the guns in this area, take your time to examine them and if you want to ask about price just call me" the gunsmith droned

Brad looked at the weapons, there must have been at least 30 handguns propped up on this wall. And of the 30 at least 27 were Israeli. There seemed to be a lot of Jericho 941s and Desert Eagles which were good guns but not exactly what he was looking for, the stock nature of these weapons wouldn't help him in his day to day business.

Brad moved on quickly and looked at a Colt .357 Python but felt it was a little too redneck and this left him with two choices, a Walther P99 or a Glock 19. The Glock had large magazine but low stopping power plus it had high recoil and missed the target a lot. The P99 on the other hand was a military gun that was made for civilian use, powerful with a good fire rate it would be perfect.

"How much for the P99?" Brad asked

"For you, $1200" The gunsmith replied

"Listen, I have just come back from Europe and my house was broken into by intruders. But the fact that I was in Europe means I can't register for a gun so I would appreciate if you let me buy now and forget the documents" Brad spoke with a false candid nature

The gunsmith sighed and seemed to deliberate the outcomes of allowing a gun to be unregistered. "$1500 for the gun to be unregistered"

"Done deal" Brad said paying the man before putting the gun into the inside pocket of his jacket.

He left the store but was now cleaned out and really needed TK to get some interest in the meth before he had income in his pocket. He had to get some income quick and knew where he could get that.

He headed back to Dartmond and Carter Avenue to talk to Johnny about some fights that could be going down. He walked back into the warehouse and saw a fighter clutching his knee inside of the ring, Johnny wore a grimace across his face as if he could see his money drifting away. Johnny seemed to spot him and came to talk to him.

"Hey man, what's going on?" Brad queried

"Rick seems to have torn his ACL so he can't fight tonight" Johnny said "That means my card for tonight is ruined" Johnny's eyes lit up "Listen, I know this is a big ask but could you step in the ring for me. I will pay you well"

"Yeah sure man, pay me anything over $2500 and I will fight for you"

"Thanks, Brad you are a legend"

Brad jumped back in the ring, pushing himself again, testing his boxing skills for tonight's fight. He needed this money and couldn't lose this.

_10:00 the same day_

Brad was in the locker room, taping up his fists preparing himself for a big fight. He zoned in, going cold and quiet before being called to fight. He stepped out into warehouse seeing hundreds of fans screaming for blood and cheering on the guy in the ring. He looked at his opponent, Brad thought that his opponent was slightly fat and quite short. Shouldn't be a bad night in the ring Brad mused to himself.

He stepped into the ring, staring his opponent down before the ref sent them back to their corners. The fat guy shot dirty looks at Brad, Brad just smiled knowing that it would throw fatty off his game. The bell sounded and Brad's rival charged at him throwing a modified superman punch, Brad dodged to the side before letting a wicked right fly straight into the jaw. He looked dazed and Brad followed up with a left uppercut right hook combo before landing a thunderous elbow which split his opponent's lip. Suddenly the fight dynamic had changed, an evenly-matched bout had now become a slaughter and Brad was its executioner circling his prey. Brad landed the killer blow, he had turned quickly creating momentum before raising his foot in an arc before connecting sweetly with the chin, and the audience cheered as the fat guy hit the canvas. The ref counted a 10-count before the fat guy was declared the loser.

Brad celebrated jumping onto the second turnbuckle and raising his arms in the air. He noticed Johnny grabbing a mic and stepping in the ring.

"Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you Brad Snider" Johnny said slapping 3 stacks into Brad's hand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, Chapter 7 is up and a few more references to look out for, Chuparosa was obviously a place in RDR and if you haven't played it you really should. Cunning is another word for Wiley which is the name of a Texan town in the DFW area.**

Brad found himself being woken up by TK the next morning, TK shook him a few times mentioning meth and sales in the same sentence. Brad jumped of bed and found himself ready to roll an hour later. They climbed in his car and drove to their destination which was Chuparosa Road way out into the green farmland of Eastern Kennedy, they followed the 369 towards Rawlings between cutting a right onto I-24 which would lead them southwards towards cattle country. Specifically, Brad and TK were heading to Cunning, Texas which was the epicentre of the Texas Cow industry, more ranchers populated these areas than the whole of Kennedy put together. This area also had a notorious love of methamphetamine which made the perfect place to unload the batch they had just cooked. TK had apparently been trying to crack the area for years but it had been locked up by the Rednecks but now the Rednecks's grip was weakening, TK could move in and dominate the area.

He had arranged a meet between a few prospective buyers at an old abandoned farmhouse just outside of Cunning. These buyers were apparently bringing a lot of money and were looking to buy at least half of the batch before going away and seeing if their peoples liked it, if they did they would definitely be back for more. TK's meth was special in the way that it caused such a prolonged high that was happy due to the nitrous oxide in those red crystals.

Brad drove into Cunning and saw that it was typical small-town America. A few grocery stores, a petrol station and an Italian restaurant made up some of its Main Street. Brad continued through the suburbia of the town before eventually reaching the dirt track that was Chuparosa Road. He followed the road carefully, watching for potholes or large rocks which could cripple his car. He saw a farmhouse in this distance, maybe half a mile up the road. As he drew in closer he saw three trucks, all different makes parked outside of the house which had moss growing on the side of the building and chipped brickwork. Brad checked his P99 and loaded the magazine hearing a mechanical sound as it clicked into place. TK was also packing. He carried a .357 Python presumably because it widely available from any street dealer from here to Las Venturas.

They stepped up to the door and knocked twice loudly. They stood tense with the product slung over Brad's back, a taster of meth at least roughly 5 pounds. The door swung opened and Brad came face to face with one of the Redneck crew. He was pretty large and had nicotine-stained teeth.

"So y'all are the dealers? Follow me" He drawled

They went into the living room where Brad saw a congregation of Rednecks. TK had assured him that these guys were a collection of some of the biggest players in the meth game but looking at them you wouldn't believe this. The 5 guys all had distinguishing features whether it be a camo jacket, yellow teeth or a couple of Skull tattoos.

"So, how much product have you guys brought?" the middle guy said with a pronounced Southern accent. TK had told him that this guy was called Jimmie Earl and that he was the leader of the Cunning Rednecks.

"We brought 5 pounds of the best meth you can buy on the street today" TK replied

"We'll buy that five as a starter kit, if our people like it, we'll buy some more. At the moment, we'll pay $20,000 for five pounds" Jimmie responded

"$50, it is the best batch I have ever cooked"

"We'll come up to $30,000 and not a dime more.

"Look get real, it's worth like $40,000 and that's leaving meat on the bone for you to make a profit, I ain't ripping your asses off" TK exploded

"We never did like your ass, pushing in on our meth" Jimmie said venomously

Brad readied himself for combat, his hand went to his gun, and it was just a matter of who drew first. The Rednecks drew first firing a volley of shots at Brad and TK. Brad dived to the side, tucking in behind a sofa before rattling off a few shots from his P99, he heard a scream and then a groan, one must have gone down. He pushed forward, dodging bullets while also letting rounds fly. He pushed over a table and ducked in behind it. Bullets whizzed over his head heading the wall behind him with a thud and then the sound of concrete breaking. He lifted his head up, firing two shots at the centre mass of one of the hicks, and he went down with a thud. Brad moved forwards killing one more before he noticed Jimmie Earl making a run for it.

Brad bolted out of the house, following Jimmie who seemed to be trying to put distance between him and Brad. Brad closed on him, he was faster and more powerful, and as he got within five feet of Jimmie he launched into a tackle slamming Jimmie into the ground. Brad crashed to floor, landing a vicious right on Jimmie's nose as he went down. Jimmie Earl cried out in pain before returning a straight left which Brad dodged before delivering a monumental head kick that floored Jimmie. The kick made such contact that Jimmie had been KO'd. Brad levelled his P99 at Jimmie Earl's limp body before pulling the trigger.

Brad then scavenged Jimmie's pockets to find the money that the Rednecks had brought to the meet and was pleasantly surprised when he found $10,000. He went back to the house where he linked up with TK who had found $20,000. They quickly left the farmhouse, eager to put distance between them and it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 is up so it has more references to various aspects of America. Obviously, there are the not so subtle references to Gas Monkey Garage who build some crazy hot-rods so they act as the Los Santos Customs of Kennedy. Trannys is well a reference to Transmission and well anther thing that is evident. The street-racing concept is influenced by Midwest Street Cars who are probably some of the baddest street racers around. **

**Tempest - GTA version of a Chevy Nova**

**Treed - Basically destroying your opponent at the start**

Brad woke up the next morning and saw that his car was littered with bullet holes, he found at least three 9mm Parabellums in his car at least. He had heard about this Grease Monkeys and apparently they had a garage that did some custom work on cars and also auto repairs. The shop was apparently on Grant Rd in Wrenchside. Brad aimed his car in that direction, heading back into northern Kennedy and into Grease Monkey turf. The shop wasn't too far from the apartment in Justice Park but he wasn't in a rush and just cruised listening to some Rolling Stones on Kennedy Rock Radio. He got to shop and was pleasantly surprised, it was quite large and L-Shaped with the offices at the front and workshop at the rear, the building was all metal panelling and glass garage doors.

He rolled his car into their lot before getting out and going inside to the office. The man waiting inside had a fashionable goatee, wore ripped jeans and had a skull ring on his finger. His clothing marked him out to be a Monkey but he didn't know whether he was the leader of the Grease Monkeys, it was unknown who their leader was.

"Hey man, I like to get some work done on my car" Brad said

"Sure man, just bring 'round back" The owner said with a less noticeable country drawl than most of the other people he had met

Brad brought his car around to the garage entrance which opened and he drove his car in. The garage was spotless but was a chaos of cars inside, the garage was littered with welders, suspension parts and air filters. There were mechanics waiting to fix his car for him and the boss man ready to give some orders.

"Hey, I never caught your name?" Brad asked

"I am Jay Ford and my chief mechanic over there" He said pointing at the mechanics "is called Scott"

Brad outlined what he would like to be done, he wanted the car to be bullet less and he also wanted engine and suspension upgrades particularly some anti-roll bars to help the car to corner better. He also wanted to get rid of the leaf spring suspension and swap to a four-link rear end which he would complement with a better supercharger. All this would not come cheap and Jay said that it would cost him around $15,000 to have all this work done.

"Jay, I am sorry but I don't have the money to pay that" Brad said apologetically

"Maybe, you could lessen what you want" Jay replied

"Nah, man I need this stuff"

"I have a side-line, which could pay off your debt if you are interested" Jay spoke with caution

"What is it?"

"Boosting cars, if you boost me one ride, that will pay off your debt and hell if I think that you are good at it, I will give you some more work"

"What do I have to steal?" Brad said all business

"A first-gen '66 Dominator, the car I am after has a candy red paint and can be found in another shop on West Elizabeth Avenue"

"I'm after it" Brad said leaving the shop

He walked a couple of blocks to where this shop was supposed, as he got close he checked his P99 as casually as he could. The car must have been located about half a mile away from the shop but it was no hardship walking there in the Kennedy sun. He located the shop, Trannys on West Elizabeth and saw that the car was being kept down a private drive where the garage must have been located. Brad hung on the street corner using the corner of his eye to watch the goings-on at the shop, as far as he could make out there were 2 mechanics and a boss-figure walking around a prospective purchase.

Brad decided to make his move by quickly darting across the driveway before taking cover behind a wall. He peeked out, seeing that they were undisturbed before ducking into the back of garage and hiding behind a mint Dukes. He noticed a guy moving towards the Dukes, possibly a parts guy or a salesman anyway he had to go. Brad sneaked up behind him and then snapped his neck by grabbing the neck, twisting it backwards before yanking it sideways. Brad felt the body go limp and he dropped it carefully onto the ground before hiding it behind a car. He stepped forward going through a steel door into the workshop area where he saw the two mechanics. They saw him also. It felt like a long time where they stared at each other, Brad ended that time by grabbing his P99, flicking the safety off before double-tapping both of them. He saw the car keys for the Dominator and swiped them before getting into the candy red car. He gunned the throttle, feeling the back wheels struggling for traction, he used the torque over load to drift the car into the driveway. He hit the gas speeding down the driveway before pulling the handbrake and starting a drift going right back towards the Grease Monkeys' shop.

He brought it back to the shop, revving the engine to show he was back. Jay came outside and looked over the car.

"Alright man, nice job" Jay said

"Thanks" Brad replied

"Your car is waiting inside"

He walked into the garage and jumped in his car, once he had rolled it out of the garage, he ripped the engine hearing the V8 bark angrily. He then pounded the car back through Kennedy to his home where he spent some time cleaning his gun. He then got a call from Jay about 11:00

"Hey, you down for some racing"

"Yeah, I am up for making some cash"

"Good then meet me out on the 369, bring about 3 stacks"

Brad hung up before getting in his car and driving all the way out west going back towards Rawlings. He had heard a lot about this street-racing scene, that they were some of the quickest in the country and loved to trash-talk and gamble big but Brad reckoned that he had something for them.

He pulled up to the spot and saw so many nice cars, Tempests and 3rd-Gen Dominators seemed to be the preferred cars in these parts. He had met Jay who explained it was a simple 1/8 mile race from a standing start with no road preparation, Brad was cool with that he know he could win races. Back in Kennedy he never really street-raced but he knew that he could drive well under pressure and win big when it counted.

He went to the drivers' meeting where they seemed to be talking about who races who. Bets were flying everywhere and match-ups were made. Brad got a guy who everybody called Vinnie and who raced a full-size Granger pick up that could do around 120mph in an 1/8.

Brad bet him the full 3 Gs that he could beat Vinnie and when they lined the cars up, it was time for him to deliver his promise. He did a quick burnout to lay down some rubber before he rolled the car back onto the line.

He sat in apprehension waiting for the light to come on and for him to drag this Vinnie's ass. The flagger, a large pot-bellied man took three steps back and flashed the light. Brad launched hard, treeing Vinnie out of the hole, he quickly upshifted into second with Vinnie about a car back. Brad began to pull out a lead as Vinnie couldn't keep pace with Brad's lighter car but then the tables turned and Vinnie found some more power on the big-end. It was a matter of holding him off, Brad could see the line and was counting down the feet while watching Vinnie catch him. He crossed and saw Vinnie was only a car behind, that truck was faster than he thought.

He brought it back to the group before Vinnie came over and gave him $3000, it was turning out to be a good day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Next Chapter is up! It has a few references to the GTA universe such as Wu Zi Mu, the Leones and Dwayne Forge. Enjoy and please review.**

Brad got a call from TK that he had found another buyer, some out of towner who wanted to branch out into meth but this time they weren't going to take any risks. TK had talked to one of his friends in the Mascolo Family who said that he could provide a few extra guys for protection providing that TK would cut them in. TK agreed so Brad was on his way to go pick up these dudes from Washington Avenue in the Financial District in Downtown. Brad drove carefully, knowing that there was high police presence in this part of town, nobody wanted any bank robberies so the police openly displayed their M9 handguns. He could see the sun glinting off vast structures of metal and glass as he reached his destination. Apparently they were waiting inside the KCN building which TK had told him was owned by the Mascolos. Brad parked outside before walking inside.

He sat in reception before a youthful looking receptionist led him up a few flights of stairs to an anonymous conference room, inside were three guys, all of Italian descent and of a similar build. The first guy looked like a wiseguy, with cold blue eyes that marked him out to be North Italian perhaps a Tuscan. The other two guys looked like Sicilians but the middle guy exuded an air of power. He was wearing a grey Didier Sachs suit that was complemented with some black oxfords, he was clearly the leader of this crew.

They exchanged pleasantries before getting down to business.

"Right the meet is going down at the Brownstone, you know that Art-Deco place in the cultural quarter" He stopped and Brad nodded his response. Joe continued "Penthouse suite 163, I will be in the meet with you to make sure our cut is safe. My two guys, Frankie and Carlo will be outside of the door. That good with you"

"Sure but have your guys hidden away, we don't want to spook the buyer into thinking we are cops" Brad replied

"That's some good thinking, the meet is at 14:00 so we will meet you there, come armed with guns, they won't pat you down in your own backyard" Joe said

"See you there" Brad responded before leaving. He walked downstairs before heading outside into the hot Texas sun, he contemplated who the out of towners may be. He thought that it would be some Vice City or Las Venturas dudes who wanted to try and take control of the city that they resided in causing their mobs to be on top, there were only a few guys who could be in that pool. First up you had Tu Ki Mu who was the nephew of Wu Zi Mu, the old triad boss from 1990s Las Venturas, from what he had heard Tu had been trying to make some moves and stamp his legacy onto the family but he didn't know whether he would branch out into meth. The Chinese were notoriously cautious with things like drugs, Brad decided to discount him for now. Then you had two old-timers in the form of Joey Leone and Tony Cipriani who had moved their family to Vice City in order to get away from their past in Liberty City and to Brad it seemed like they moved as they couldn't deal with the growing influence of families like the Gambettis or Ancelottis. Regardless, the Leone clan was very weak and could possibly be trying to make some moves in order to fly back up the pecking order and regain some honour amongst the Commission families again. He knew that Joey was a loose cannon and could possibly make some bad decisions therefore Brad felt it possible that they would try moving into meth. Finally you had a relatively newcomer, Dwayne Forge from out of Liberty City. Forge ran the Hustlers factions that existed throughout of Liberty City, all the way from Northwood to Firefly Island. He had recently served a five-year stint in Alderney Correctional Facility for being a drug kingpin, now he was out on the streets he was looking to rebuild his fortune and meth was a possible way of doing so.

Brad drove from the Financial District up to the Cultural Quarter before parking outside of the Brownstone before heading in. This hotel was typical of places like this in the area all reclaimed wood and re-used metal but cost twice as more as just a normal hotel room. Brad noticed a black Sentinel outside, the mobsters had got there before him and were probably waiting.

Brad walked up to the room and knocked on the door. He waited for a few seconds before the door opened ajar and a gun poked out of it, behind the gun was Joe. He let him in and Brad saw that TK was waiting in the lounge with around 50 pounds of meth in a black duffel bag sitting on a glass coffee table. Brad checked his P99, loading a clip into it before flicking the safety on and tucking it into his jeans. Now they had to wait.

Around 30 minute later, they heard a knock on the door and Joe went to open it. Brad sat there next to the meth as calm as he could possibly be, he could hear greetings being exchanged in what seemed to be murmurs between both parties. He soon found out who was buying the drugs. A black guy in his 20s walked in, he walked with a swagger and confidence that showed that he thought he was important. The black guy had close-cropped hair and wore a Crevis jacket with Ira jeans and Hinterland boots. Instantly he recognised the guy as Dwayne Forge. Dwayne also carried an entourage of about five guys, all with a similar dress style.

"Yo, let me see the product" Dwayne said

TK opened the bag and revealed the ruby-like meth, it glistened like the jewel and has the same deepness of colour.

"Yo, Grumps check that shit out" Dwayne motioned to one of his guys.

This guy, Grumps cracked some with the handle of a flick knife before snorting it down quickly. Instantly he was in heaven feeling the rush of the drugs all over his body.

"Dwayne, that is the shit man" Grumps said the drugs affecting the sound of his voice.

"How much is it for the whole bag?" Dwayne asked

"It is about 2K for a pound and there are 50 pounds so we'll call the price $100,000" TK replied

"How does 70Gs sound" Dwayne shot back

"Look, I will come down to $85,000 but that is my lowest price. I won't go any lower" TK said with an air of finality

Dwayne seemed to consider the wholesale value and then the streetvalue for a few moments before speaking. "Alright man, you got a deal"

Dwayne pulled out a suitcase full of cash and set it down on the table before grabbing the duffel bag. He then left quickly with a sense of calm, walking out of the building and heading back to LC. The three men quickly examined the money seeing that there was $85,000 exactly in brand new sequential bills. Joe took his 10% and gave Brad his phone number. Joe had some family stuff that was going on that may need an outsider to sort out. That left around $75,000 to split between three people, TK took his and Alex's share and left Brad to the final 5 stacks of $5000. Brad now had some cash in his pocket and the world of Ludendorff now seemed very distant. He walked outside and got in his car and drove off. Bryan Adams 'Paradise City' was playing on the radio and Brad smiled realising that it had been 3 months since the failed heist.


	10. Chapter 10

Brad woke up and found a few missed calls on his phone, he saw the number to be Joe Mascolo, the capo he met when selling TK's drugs, it had been a few months since he had last seen the guy so that threat he was talking about a few months back must have come up. During that time, TK's meth empire was growing and was starting to break into the Rednecks turf by selling great product at a cheaper price. Brad himself had played a good part in that running the drugs from Rawlings back into Kennedy inconspicuously, away from the cops, he had a few run-ins with the feds but nothing serious and nothing he couldn't avoid. He rang Joe back, he heard the ring buzz three times before Joe picked up

"Hey Joe, what's going on" Brad asked

"Nothing much, same old, same old. People don't pay, a bit of a leverage here and there and they pay happily"

"Sounds good man" Brad replied

"Listen Brad I need to you to help pull a job for me, just come over to Lombardi, Giugaro and Co. It's a law firm, not too far from where you live, in the Justice Park area" Joe spoke with a more hushed tone

"I'll see you there" Brad said hanging up

Brad jumped in his car before gunning the engine towards the law firm, it was situated on Cleveland Rd to the north of the park. Brad drove straight through the park making the V-8 sing as it went through the revband, he quickly downshifted for a tight right and slid the car around the corner. He could hearing blaring horns from cars who thought Brad was a madman.

He eventually found himself at Cleveland Rd and saw the law firm, it was impressive with great slabs of marble and glass forming its exterior. Brad parked the car before walking inside. He saw a paralegal and asked "Do you know where I can find Joe Mascolo?"

"Yes sir, he is in the last office on the right" The paralegal replied

Brad walked down the hallway and opened the last door on the right.

He saw Joe who looked to be stressed, flecks of grey had started to colour his hair and Joe looked like he had aged a year in three months.

"Hey Joe"

"Brad, how are you doing?" Joe asked

"Pretty good, you?" Brad responded

"I would be doing fine but there is some stupid kid who is fucking my god-damn business up" Joe said with rage starting to show

"Why, what's going on?" Brad said calmly

"This guy, Carlo Moretti has been trying to jack some of the money we made at the casino"

"You need me to teach him a lesson?" Brad offered

"Don't teach him a lesson, send him to the morgue" Joe said with malice

"Where is this guy?" Brad asked

"Today is his day off and it is a football day so I imagine he is at the SM&amp;M stadium getting drunk and betting on the game"

"You're the boss" Brad said walking away

Brad got back in his car and headed to Racecourse Way where the stadium was located. Brad had some idea about where in the stadium he would be located. He worked in a casino, therefore he probably owned made $40,000 legit but he could make some on the side due to his mob association. Brad considered this and thought the dude would be in the cheap seats.

The stadium was located in the centre of the town, in the traditionally horse derby area of town which was known as Wire in reference to the gambling culture that happened down at the track. Brad arrived at the stadium and saw the massive glass and metal structure that was in front of him, it had a large concourse at the front of the stadium protruding from the circular stadium. However it was fairly quiet in the traffic around the stadium and Brad couldn't understand why. He then eventually realised why when he was looking at the billboard advertising the game. It was at 3:00 and it was 1:00 right now, this guy must be getting pissed in a tailgate party. Brad drove round to the carpark and saw probably a hundred trucks of all different ages, sizes and makes. Brad found someplace to park, way away from the party.

Brad walked over to the party and started to scan for this guy, he apparently looked short and well-built with a buzzcut of black hair. Brad walked through the hundreds of people that were amassed while looking for this guy. He eventually found Carlo sitting on the tailgate on a V-250 truck that was roughly 30 years old. Carlo was surrounded by three or four other guys but Brad pushed his way through these guys and stared Carlo out.

"Carlo, your boss Joe Mascolo sent me to collect a debt" Brad said

"Fuck you and the fucking Mascolos" Carlo cried

Carlo then ran off at speed and the powerful build meant that he had lengths on Brad before he had even started running. Brad eventually got through all of the drunkards before seeing Carlo was diving into the stadium. Brad sprinted following Carlo at pace while calling for Carlo to stop, he saw that Carlo had pushed a woman towards Brad, Brad ducked to the side while he kept running. Carlo kept running before he quickly vaulted a turnstile into the supporters' area which led into the stadium, Brad followed, catching Carlo with every pace as Brad's target tired. Brad saw that Carlo was bounding through the area before forcing his way past an official into the grandstands, Brad did the same getting into the stands. He watched Carlo mistimed a jump over the seats and land awkwardly, rolling his ankle, Carlo screamed out in pain. Brad pounced on Carlo before levelling his gun at him.

Carlo pleaded to Brad to don't kill him, Brad felt some sympathy for the guy, and he seemed like a good kid who had got caught up in some bad business. However a job was still a job and the murder had to be done. Brad aimed directly between the eyes before pulling the trigger.

He heard people screaming and running away as the shot was heard.

Brad ran back to his car and drive away quickly as he heard police sirens sound. He eventually made it back to Joe's law firm and received his payment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Aztec - Chevy Stepside Truck**

**Sprint - Dodge Dart**

**Crooked Toes is a RDR reference**

For that next week, Brad didn't have any jobs but as he was prepping his Dukes for a race-night out of the 369, he got a call from Jay.

"Brad we got an issue" Jay said tensely

"What's going on?" Brad replied not picking up on the tone yet

"Have you heard about Chimaera?"

"No what about him?"

"He's sold us out to some anti-streetracing taskforce of the KPD, we're fucked man. Fucked"

"Easy Jay, where is he?"

"He's currently in western Kennedy at his shop on Hoosier Avenue" Jay said dejected

"Do you want me to deal with him?" Brad ventured

"How?"

"Oh you know, I could check his brakes" Brad said off-handedly but his meaning was clear as day, if you were a street-race nut, you knew what it meant.

"Do it" Jay said shortly with a touch of laconicness to his speech

Brad closed the hood of his car making sure that he massive bug=catcher triple carburettor intake was clipped by the hood before gunning the car westwards. Western Kennedy was a dustbowl, nothing there could stay dust-free and the heat from the midday sun always seemed oppressive. There was none of the green fertility that had marked Eastern Kennedy in Western Kennedy, just dusty, hazy heat. Brad found himself thundering down I-24 out of the city towards the surrounding suburban areas of Kennedy, he was specifically heading towards Crooked Toes which was the first town along the interstate some 20 miles out of town. Brad just gunned the throttle and allowed the car to do its thing.

He soon found himself in the town of Crooked Toes which wasn't exactly small-town America, it seemed to be teeming with the oil industry that came with Texas as a whole. However as the oil-wells dried up so did the business leaving the area with many disused factories and warehouses which had now been repurposed for building cars or stocking electrical goods. Brad went past one factory and saw gangs of men standing outside of it marking their territory, it was obviously a packing mill and judging by the Hispanic nature of the men, it was Narco-90.

However, Chimaera's workshop was not in the industrial area, his workshop was at his house at the end of his land. Brad arrived there and looked the place over, it looked to be a standard three bedroom house. There was a garage with a hinged white door at the front of the property which presumably contained his daily driver which was apparently a tuned Aztec step-side truck from the fifties but he realised that Chimaera would be out back preparing his car for a showdown with Mohawk Jeff for the number six spot. Brad himself was only number eight after a few months. Brad got out of the car and walked around to the garden door which felt wooden and sturdy, Brad jumped and hooked a leg over before climbing over the door. He noticed the hedges surrounding the property making the house seem very illicit and secretive as if it was home to a weed operation. Brad preceded down the garden path with his body tilted forward and his steps light as he reached his shop. It was a large wooden barn which he could see had been reinforced with metal panelling before being coated with some all-weather paint.

Brad walked up to the door before pushing it open just an inch so he could peek into the gap the door created. He saw Chimaera bent over his Bravado Sprint which in itself was a nice car, it had a plum purple pearl paintjob and from what he could see a 632 cubic inch Bravado Banshee motor that had nitrous on it. He almost whistled at the sweetness of the set-up. Brad walked up calmly with an air of confidence but as soon as he was three steps away from Chimaera, he turned around and nearly jumped out of his own skin. From what he had heard about Chimaera he was one bad dude, he had beat his wife and was arrested after they found her with a broken nose and multiple contusions. He then charmed the jury by changing his entire persona and got off the charges, he himself began to refer to himself as a Chimaera and Brad supposed the name stuck.

"What are you doing here man?" Chimaera asked with a slight quiver in his voice

Brad decided to waste no time with the small-talk to setup his threats. "Listen you fucker, why in the hell did you rat us out to the cops. Seriously bro we don't turn on each other". Brad had him by throat in the air.

Chimaera just laughed "You really think that we were going to stay unnoticed Brad? Really? The police can't catch the top guys so they come after us. Once they offered me a good deal, I thought why not? It will get me out of this mess"

"You are pussy, not even willing to stand by your friends" Brad responded

"No, I am a Chimaera, I adapt and change"

Brad raised his gun and shot Chimaera within the eyes. He left the house quickly and a few blocks away told Jay of the news.


	12. Chapter 12

**Pezzonovante - Literally translated as a .90 caliber, mafia term for a Don**

**Infamita - Something that is wrong**

A few weeks after the death of Chimaera and a half-hearted police search for the murder, Brad found himself back in the game, he had been in Kennedy for about a year and half since his troubled in North Yankton, he now just blended into the crowd of people who lived in Kennedy and relied on crime to get through the city. He checked the date on his phone calendar and it read 3rd July 2005 before he picked up the incoming phone-call, it was from Joe. He wondered whether another mess needed to be cleaned up or some protection given to a pezzonovante.

"Hey Joe"

"Brad I need your help with something" Joe asked

"Shoot, what is it?"

"I need somebody to go liberate a package from Narco-90, this package I have heard is pretty good" Joe said guardedly

"Sure man, where is it?" Brad queried

"It is at Manny's Salvage Yard, down in Southern Kennedy"

"I'll be on my way" Brad said starting to hang up "Wait, just a minute what does the package look like" Brad asked

"The package is a red shipping container"

Joe hung up and Brad thought about what the package could be. In his mind, he believed that it was a large shipment of drugs, presumably coke as that is what Narco-90 dealt with. A shipping container of coke would be worth a hell of lot street value, Brad could understand why Joe wanted it. Brad found himself driving down to Southern Kennedy and realised that if this was a Narco-90 there would be a lot of guys and charging in head-on would be almost suicide.

Brad reached the yard and it was a true American salvage yard, there were old cars, Japanese and American stacked 10 cars high into the air. Brad also noticed that there was a small office building of to the side, presumably where people came to do business with Manny, this was at the mid-point of the horseshoe in the way that Manny's yard was formed. Brad believed that the shipping container must be at the end of the horseshoe in the clearing surrounded by cars. Before leaving his car, Brad checked his P99 was full of ammunition before he flicked the safety off.

Brad's plan of action was to go silently into the yard and take the guards and quietly as he could, Brad felt that avoiding direct confrontation would allow him the best chance of survival on this job. Brad creeped into the yard and there were two guys standing right in front of him, Brad ducked in behind a wreck of a car. The two guys weren't that good as guys, they were just sort of standing around smoking. Once Brad jumped on the first guy, the second would roll around an attack him, he had to be quiet in order to stop any alarms being raised.

He shifted his weight sideways, aligning himself with a worn, torn car-seat before firing a shot from his handgun out of it. He watched as it sliced through the first guy's head and his knees started to weak but by then Brad was already moving with his trusty penknife in his hand. Brad launched himself at the second target, pushing him into the ground before quickly bringing the knife down onto the throat, slashing the vocal chords. Brad then grabbed the head and angled his knife for just behind the ear before making a surgical incision, the blade went in deep and the guard stopped struggling. Brad yanked the blade out and saw it was covered in blood, not liquid red but more foamed with white flecks.

Brad however did not notice, a guard positioned on top of the office building who began firing hot lead as soon as Brad had downed the first guy. Brad rolled sideways, dodging the bullets before he found his feet and reeled off four shots in quick succession, he watched as the guard fell to the floor. Brad pushed forward knowing that his stealthy approached had failed, two more guys came round the corner and Brad let off more rounds before they could raise their AKs and get a shot off. Brad heard gunfire from behind him, it sounded like a barrage of weapons, guns of different staccatos and barks formed a symphony of gunpowder and cordite. Brad threw himself behind cover behind one of the piles of cars. He needed more firepower.

Brad saw the AK dropped by one of the guards patrolling Manny's yard. He crawled his way over and checked the gun, it had full ammunition and a mag ready to go. Brad pushed the firing lever down once so it would go into full auto mode. Brad turned back round, the sound of guns coming ever closer before he opened up. There was no precision in this murder, just desperate survival and a spray and pray hope that came over Brad. He pushed forward into the storm of bullets letting some of his own fly.

Everything suddenly fell silent, there was no weapons barking or people running, nothing just the sound of Brad's breathing and the traffic that had been passing Manny's yard. There was a smell of gunpowder in the air which was thrown together with the perfume of cordite. The smell of death itself was interesting with its tribal bloodiness and the smoky smell of the modern world.

Brad rounded the corner and saw the shipping container, it was a dark red colour and looked battered with the metal sides having many dents and scratches. Brad opened the door to the container and was surprised by what he saw. He felt things that he wouldn't usually associate with a criminal job.

Inside of the container Brad saw a group of Latina girls, all of them looked defeated as if they had accepted an all too common fate for women from these countries. They were covered in their own bodily wastes and had slashes, much the same to ones from a knife, over their bodies. They looked to be only teenagers by Brad's eyes, perhaps the oldest being only eighteen. He felt pathos for these girls, they had been through such torment that would have broken hardened criminals, instead they were just ordinary people subjected to the schemes of others, the sadistic schemes. They were incredibly vulnerable and Brad felt a certain degree of protectiveness to them, an instant emotion to help those in need.

None of them had rushed out of the container, all of them had backed into the far corner, trying to put as much distance between themselves and him, Brad tossed away his AK47 in disgust at Narco-90 and this flesh-peddling industry as a whole. Brad never thought that he could be repulsed by crime, he always believed it was like life, it had good and bad on both sides, one man's gain was another's loss but this seemed to be wrong and repulsive. He did understand the contradictions of a criminal moralising about good and bad as he was on the bad side of things when it came to the black and white of the law but morally the law was grey, it considered the damage to people not the morality of the action. He knew he was a criminal but he still had a conscience which was turning into a morally grey state as he became hardened to these crimes but even he felt that this was wrong.

Brad tried to encourage them out by showing he was friendly through his conciliatory tone but none of these poor women moved forwards possibly as they believed that Brad was the same as their tormentors, the Narco-90 network. Brad slowly advanced forward, still friendly and touched one of them on the shoulder that he was friendly. However this caused all of them to call out with fear and anger, their voices tremulous as the cacophony of voices sounded their response. The Latin phrases spoken at him signalled fear, he couldn't speak Spanish but he could tell when someone was fearful.

Brad didn't notice but Joe was walking through the battlefield, the broken bodies left by Brad's survival and their death. Joe reached the container and touched Brad on the shoulder. Brad recoiled and stepped back.

"Thanks Brad, we'll take it from here" Joe said calmly

Brad pulled a gun on Joe. "What are you going to do with them, you gonna force them to fuck any fucking bastard with enough coin to buy himself some company. If you do that bud we have a problem, nobody should force these girls into anymore shit, they have already been through some fucking traumatic experiences." Brad exploded, his emotions were evident much like a tornado on the horizon.

Joe was cool, not really showing much from his face that wore a mask of cordiality very well. "Relax Brad we aren't going to do anything bad, we hurt their business and that's what we wanted to do" Joe said calmly

"Yeah, I know that but what are you going to do? Put these girls to work on the streets, make sure they get STDs by 20, depression by 21 and death by 22" Brad raged

"Brad get your fucking head out of the fucking sky, we are criminals. Death and consequences are our game but even still we are Italian. We aren't morally abject, we object to this _infamita_" Joe said before hesitating. He continued "Listen man, these girls are going to be used to count our money and nothing else"

Brad didn't know whether he believed Joe but he knew the truth and the truth could bring him down. He watched the girls go, hopeless and to a new owner. As he watched them go, Brad promised himself that he would never deal in the sex trafficking game.


	13. Chapter 13

**Allende is a character from Red Dead Redemption. New Bordeaux is a little reference to the proposed new map of RDR 2**

It was a month after that whole escapade with the trafficked girls until Joe gave him a call, possibly it was to give him some time to cool off and get his head right. Brad in his mind felt fine but he believed that it was a dirty industry that should not be allowed by a criminal's integrity. In many ways a criminal's integrity or honour was the only thing that kept crime to a degree clean, people seemed to believe that criminals were remorseless monsters but none of them had seen how cops acted. The sad thing was for Brad that criminal honour seemed to be disappearing with the power-hungry and despot criminals, there were only a few good guys left.

Joe had ended up calling him about a hacker who had apparently stole a lot of money out of the Mascolos bank accounts, hacking was only taking off as a major white collar crime and not many guys knew how to stop it. Many of the crime world's leaders responded in two ways, rubbing a guy out or beating the shit out of him.

"Brad there is a hacker who keeps on breaking into our accounts and we need you to try and stop him from taking our cash for this month" Joe said clearly

"What do you want me to do with him?" Brad said

"Don't kill him, he is only a kid, just slap him around a bit. Teach a lesson" Joe offered

"Alright, where is the kid?" Brad asked

"He is in South-West Kennedy, he lives on Azul De Santa Avenue in the barrio district" Joe said before hanging up.

Brad knew that South-West was a serious area man, corrupt cops, pimps and crack all flowed easily through that area, he realised that he would have to go heavily-armed. He had to get a sub of some sort perhaps a P90 or an MP5 but to get these he would have to get one from an underground gun guy. He had heard of a guy towards Jocelyn who sold military hardware that he had stolen from the base a while ago, from what Brad could tell it was a professional operation but he did not know whether he could trust the guy. Brad drove through the city and headed south towards Jocelyn which was a suburban town located in the KR Metro Area.

The gun dealer operated out of a storage unit on Allende Avenue and Brad was headed there, it was the first stop just off the I-24 which flowed all the way down to the Gulf Coast before cutting eastwards into New Bordeaux. Brad revved the Dukes feeling hot rubber being left on the concrete as he accelerated towards Jocelyn.

He found himself in Jocelyn which appeared to be typical small-town America until he pulled onto the El Centro Street and saw a banner hanging. The banner said it was the world capital of strip clubs and they were not kidding as Brad saw strip club after strip club as he drove along. Brad cut right and saw a large looming pre-fabricated concrete building right in front of him. It was at least six stories and covered around four different football fields. Brad parked before meeting the dealer who was wearing a black leather jacket in 100 degree weather, which is how Brad knew how to identify him. There were no words spoken between the two men but mutual respect as both guys were professionals.

Brad maintained his silence as anonymity was usually the best way to conduct deals that concerned serious contraband. They reached the unit, it was an indoor air-cooled locker that was perhaps 10 by 6 feet. The storage bin itself was stacked wall to wall with high-grade weapons that looked to be brand new, it was obvious that the gun dealer was a serious weapons guy. Brad walked over and picked out an MP7 which he felt would be perfect to intimidate these Latino gangbangers. The gun itself had a collapsible stock so that Brad could fit it down his jeans but it had good fire-rate and a pretty solid range, he knew he wouldn't hit anything at 400m but for a street weapon it was effective.

"How much?" Brad asked

"$4000" The dealer responded

Brad peeled off a roll of notes and gave them to the dealer. Brad left the storage locker and headed back towards Kennedy and its barrio area. The barrio was not a traditional Mexican barrio with poorly-built houses, open sewers and a bad water supply, it was much closer to the hoods you would see out west in Los Santos. It was previously an industrial district that had become increasingly residential when many of the illegal immigrants crossed the Rio Grande with nowhere to go except for somewhere out of sight. The area itself was mostly illegals from countries up and down South America, there were Mexicans, Colombians and Hondurans but all of them bonded together against the discriminatory society that faced them to form Narco-90. Bangers hung on street corners aimlessly drinking beer and hustling, there was no organised nature to their crime at the bottom levels, only the medium to top levels guys had influence back in Latin America and could organise drugs and guns and the mules to move them.

Brad came off the I-24 into Southern Kennedy before going right into the Laredo city district. This was one of the most crime-riddled areas of the town, it was much like Juarez in terms of gang violence and open defiance of law who were often second-generation Mexicans and seen as traitors to their own Latino blood. Brad ended up going into a multi-storey car park and leaving his Dukes there so it wasn't on the street available for jacking, he knew that his baby would make a fine prize for any hoodlum worth their salt. Brad pulled his MP7 out of the boot before continuing on foot to Azul De Santa Avenue. This street alone was the epicentre of Narco-90's foot soldiers with the crack houses and loose women to keep these boys entertained. Brad walked purposefully with every footstep thudding trying to look as menacing as possible, he could feel at least 10 eyes burn into him as he walked down the street.

He cut down an alley that would lead him directly to 24 Azul De Santa Avenue but he found a few Mexican bangers in front of him. They wore white vests with low-riding combat trousers and had tattoo sleeves with Aztec designs.

"Where you going homes?" The first called out

"I got some business here" Brad replied

"What business does a pendejo like you have in a Mexican barrio?"

"I got to see someone, so let me past or your boys will see that you are pussy"

To Brad's surprise they let him through and he continued down the alley before finding himself opposite to the house. He decided to knock on the door, he strode powerfully towards the door and to his surprise the door opened before he reached it. He saw a Mexican women standing in the door, interrogating him with her gaze.

"What do you want" The woman called out

"I need to talk to the boy in your house" Brad replied

"You mean my son Yair?"

"Yes I mean your son"

"You better come inside then" The woman invited him in.

She told Brad that he was upstairs and Brad found himself walking to the kid's room. He opened the door and saw that the kid was watching some porn while he had a hack going. Brad shut the hack and the kid sprang up angry. The kid himself was small and wiry, his eyes seemed to be set into his face with experience.

"What are you doing man? You are disrupting my business!" Yair exclaimed

Brad moved forward and shoved him against the wall. "You are disrupting the business of my friends"

"Hey man that is just a job, I take it or the Narco cholos come to firebomb my house" Yair replied

Brad was taken back and found himself thinking about how he could use this kid and that he was in a bad situation.

"Listen Yair, you want another job?" Brad offered

"What are you offering?"

"I am offering you a chance to come and work for me, I could always use with a hacker but you have got to stop hacking the Mascolos"

"I would but then I would get killed by Narco-90"

"You wouldn't because I would pay you decent enough money so you could move out to a small town in the Kennedy/Rawlings metro area."

Yair seemed to weigh his options for a minute. "Alright I am in"

Brad left with a new hire, he called Joe as he walked back to his car and told him that he had brought Yair onside. Joe sounded quite happy on the phone about this news.


End file.
